


this is totally more logical than buying a bong shut up

by the_impardis



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Grinding, M/M, Marijuana, Shotgunning, dumb boys who don't realise that emotions are important until they're giving each other orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 13:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11014059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_impardis/pseuds/the_impardis
Summary: Jeremy sucks at smoking weed.Michael suggests they try shotgunning.Clichés ensue.





	this is totally more logical than buying a bong shut up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexme7_7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexme7_7/gifts).



> quick shoutout to alexme7_7 (or slaygoldponyboy on tumblr) for giving me the inspiration to do this. i love their shotgunning fic so go read that after this.
> 
> also there are sexy times but the problem is i can't write sexy times soooo

It was honestly kind of hilarious how determined Jeremy was to get as high as Michael. He’d desperately try, and almost consume the entire joint in his efforts, then immediately cough out three quarters of the smoke. By the time Michael was already on his way to a respectable buzz and feeling the world narrow to the 16 colours of the television’s pixels and a beanbag beneath him, Jeremy would have smoked half a joint and probably only benefited from about 10% of it.

Hilarious. Especially, Michael granted, because he was high and everything was slightly funnier when drugs were involved. The entire basement was beginning to feel more like a sauna from the smoke Jeremy had expelled and his petulant, puppy face was adorable. It would be so easy to just lean over and capture it in a kiss and—

Michael cut his thoughts off right there. He must be higher than he thought if he was seriously entertaining the idea of kissing his best friend. Even if Jeremy had his eyes half closed looking at him with a look of such open happiness that it made his stomach clench because he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have someone like him in his life. Not even then.

“How d’you do it man,” Jeremy whined from his beanbag. “It’s so hard to smoke a joint well. We should buy a bong or something.”

Michael shrugged. He made sure he wasn’t staring at Jeremy’s face. “Hard work, perseverance and hard work, man. I’ve been training myself for the pot Olympics for years now.”

Jeremy snorted. “I know that’s not a real thing, Mike. And you said hard work twice.”

“That’s because it takes twice as much hard work as perseverance, Jere. Has Chicken Run taught you nothing?”

Jeremy just planted his face in the beanbag in response. God, he was adorable. Not that Michael thought that. It was basically just an established fact. Jeremy Heere, a twinky looking 17 year old who mashed his face into a beanbag because he wasn’t as high as his friend, was by definition, adorable. It was simple science.

Jeremy grumbled something into his cushion.

“Jere, you know I can’t speak beanbag-ese, you gotta lift your face up.”

He rolled over dramatically onto his side and pouted up at Michael. Adorably. “You should help me. You said you were like my weed Yoda.”

“That was when you thought that ‘Mary-Jane’ was actually a cool thing to call it. What am I meant to do about the fact that you can’t breathe in smoke? I mean, it’s kinda a good thing you have trouble with it. Most of the time it would be bad.”

“ _Michael_ ,” Jeremy groaned. “Stop saying smart stuff and just weed-Yoda me. Make a bong out of origami or something.”

“I’m Filipino, not Japanese and you know that.” Michael was deliberately focussing on the obtuse part of the sentence because he didn’t want to think about the only other way he could think of to get Jeremy high without equipment. And he was not subjecting himself to that.

“ _Please._ ” Jeremy could be really whiny when he wasn’t sober. Michael wondered why he put up with it (He knew. He knew precisely why he put up with it). “You’re my player one.”

Well shit. How was Michael supposed to say no to that?

“I will show you, my young padawan, but you may not like it,” he finally conceded. “Having you ever heard of shotgunning before?”

Jeremy grinned lazily. “You’re not talking about car seats are you?”

“No.” Michael didn’t know what to say next. Luckily for him, Jeremy had pulled his phone out of his pocket and was googling it.

Neither spoke for a moment as Jeremy clicked the youtube video and the only sounds in the room were electric keytar from the television and laboured breathing from the youtube clip.

Michael didn’t say anything. The air suddenly felt solid and like it was pressing down on his chest. This was exactly what he smoked weed to avoid. Jeremy was the one who finally shattered the pregnant pause.

“Dude. That’s kinda gay.” That at least, was familiar territory.

“Dude,” Michael parroted back. “I am kinda gay.”

“True.” They eased back into the comfortable quiet and Michael took another hit off the joint. Then Jeremy ruined it again.

“So, like, could we do that?”

For a moment, Michael was worried that the weed had given him auditory hallucinations because there was no way that Jeremy Heere, his best friend of 12 years and crush of 8, just asked him whether they could shotgun in his fucking basement to the soundtrack of Metroid destroying a distracted Samus onscreen. But no, Jeremy was giving him the puppy dog eyes and waiting for an answer so it seemed like this was actually happening. 

“Umm,” Michael answered eloquently. “I guess? If you wanna get high before I beat this entire game it may be our only choice.”

Jeremy shot him an offended glare with no heat behind it and hauled himself upright. “Okay then,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

His eyebrows scrunched together as though he thought that his part in the haphazard plan they had concocted required his single-minded concentration. Michael tried to ignore how Jeremy’s nose scrunched with them. 

It wasn’t cute at all. 

He wasn’t high enough to lie to himself convincingly.

Michael took a long drag from the joint then angled his face toward Jeremy’s. They both paused, unsure of how to go about the next step. Slowly, Jeremy raised a hand to cup along the back of Michael’s neck and pull him closer. Michael had no idea if shotgunning culture involved closing your eyes before meeting the shotgun-ee, but he did it anyway.

As Michael’s chest deflated, Jeremy’s filled out and he could feel the smoke leaving his mouth. Jeremy breathed in deeply and it felt a bit weird to just be sitting there with their mouths wide open breathing on each other, but fuck if Michael was going to be the one to break away first.

Finally, Jeremy pull back, his hand sliding down Michael’s neck until it rested on his shoulder. They stayed in that position for a moment, before Jeremy collapsed into giggles. It was infectious, and Michael found himself leaning into Jeremy’s chest and laughing along.

Samus Aran fiddled with her arm cannon on the screen.

“That was,” Jeremy stopped to giggle again. “That worked really well. We should do it again.”

Without waiting for an answer, he plucked the joint from the ashtray between their beanbags and shoved it in Michael’s mouth.

Michael took another long breath in and almost fell onto Jeremy’s face. He wasn’t nearly as nervous that Jeremy would do something to make him feel bad this time. And maybe this could be something for the spank bank. That one time Jeremy called him while masturbating was getting old.

This time, the two separated more promptly afterwards, but Michael swore he felt a graze of tongue against the seam of his lip. It was probably an accident. It had to be.

When Jeremy pulled far enough away from his face for Michael’s eyes to focus on him, he forgot how to breathe for a second. Jeremy’s hair was mussed from throwing himself on cushions, his face was red from laughing so hard and his lips were spit-slick. He had never looked more beautiful.

“Dude, I am totally baked right now. This shotgunning thing was an a- _maz_ -ing idea!” Jeremy pulled Michael from his daydream.

“Well, yeah,” Michael managed. “Some people do like to call me ‘weed-Yoda’.”

Jeremy nodded and leaned back so his head was pillowed in Michael’s hoodie as he turned back to Metroid. The warm, vice-like feeling in Michael’s chest was only because Jeremy must have been leaning on the zip and pressing it into him or something. It had nothing to do with the fact that Jeremy was a very tactile stoner.

The next half hour passed languidly, Mother Brain on the television becoming background noise to Michael as he felt himself curl up against Jeremy’s back. His high was slowly fading and the fabric of Jeremy’s t-shirt was soft from years of machine washing so it was the easiest thing to just burrow his face in there and breath the scent of detergent, weed, and Jeremy in. It was a safe smell. He didn’t notice the slightly hitched breath Jeremy took when his breath ghosted over his spine.

Finally, Jeremy pulled away from Michael’s chest to look at him. Michael noticed his eyes flicker down to his lips, an implicit question in the action. Like Michael had ever said no to Jeremy ever before in his life and was planning on starting. He nodded back briefly then turned to grab the dwindling joint from it’s ashtray.

Before he could however, Jeremy had launched himself at Michael’s face, apparently forgetting that an essential part of the shotgunning experience was having weed present. Not that Michael minded. In fact, it was getting very hard for him to think with Jeremy’s hands wrapped in his hair, his nose bumping against the rims of his glasses and his mouth sliding wetly over his. Michael felt his own hands move to rest over Jeremy’s back, either to pull him closer or push him away, he wasn’t sure. After only a few seconds (the best few seconds of Michael’s life thus far) Jeremy pulled back to breath. Michael let him leave.

They didn’t look at each other for a moment.

“So, ummm,” Michael said after a terse pause. “Generally, you wait for me to take a breath of smoke, but, I guess you forgot that.”

It didn’t make the silence less awkward. If anything, it intensified.

“Right. I—” Jeremy broke off to laugh. It was his uncomfortable, I’m-not-happy-in-this-situation laugh. “I forgot about that. Sorry.”

“No big deal,” said Michael. He wanted the tension to leave. “I can understand why you’d want all of this,” he gestured down his torso lazily. But instead of laughing, or even fake laughing, Jeremy just went red in response.

“Sorry,” Jeremy finally sputtered out. “I can leave if you want or—”

“What?”

Jeremy blushed harder. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, I can just go now. My bad I was just—”

“Wait.” Michael’s brain was moving slower because of the smoke, but he felt like he had messed something up. “What are you sorry about? You didn’t do anything bad.”

Jeremy stared at him like he was crazy. “I just kissed you when you didn’t want to kiss me. That’s, like, by definition a bad thing to do.”

Okay, so maybe weed-induced auditory hallucinations couldn’t be completely ruled out.

“You,” Michael started. He didn’t know how to finish the sentence but he decided to try anyway. “You meant to kiss me? You’re not just high and couldn’t remember the order we do stuff when shotgunning?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes, which felt unnecessary. “Despite this youthful glow, I wasn’t born yesterday, dude. I knew what shotgunning was before this evening. I just—” he cut himself off and looked at his hands. “I just wanted to see what it was like.”

Michael was speechless. It was a rare occurrence.

“But, like, don’t worry about it, man,” Jeremy said. “It’s not a big deal.”

The silence stretched on. Jeremy fiddled with the SNES controller, making Samus run back and forth across the same patch of dirt. Michael fiddled with the bobbles on his hoodie.

“Are you still high?” Michael finally asked when it was clear that Jeremy had no intentions of saying anything else and was just trying to sink into his beanbag and out of existence.

Jeremy paused and furrowed his eyebrows slightly. “I don’t think so,” he eventually said. “Or if I am, it’s definitely wearing off. I’d probably be fine to go home in the next half hour and not get in trouble with my dad if you want.”

“No, it’s just,” Michael stopped for a second. “Would you be open to shotgunning without weed again?”

God, that sounded stupid. Michael was about to backtrack and pretend that nothing had ever happened when Jeremy leapt upright from his beanbag.

He was blushing hard, but Michael figured he was too with the world’s worst proposition coming from him.

Jeremy nodded cautiously, staring intently at Michael’s face for any sign of a joke. There wasn’t one.

Slowly, Michael leaned off his beanbag and into Jeremy’s space. He brought a hand up to the crown of Jeremy’s head and brushed away a bit of Jeremy’s fringe from his eyes, looking for any sign to stop. There wasn’t one.

Jeremy was the one to close the distance between the two, toppling onto Michael, pulling a hand around his neck as they fell backwards. Jeremy’s lips met Michael’s just before his head hit the beanbag. And this time there was no pretence of sharing smoke.

Their mouths met clumsily, Michael’s lips falling to the side of Jeremy’s, immediately focusing on sucking the side of his jaw while Jeremy tried to kiss at Michael’s cheek, then neck, then collarbone. Michael nipped lightly at Jeremy’s jaw, and was rewarded with a quiet whimper. Jeremy pulled Michael off him to glare briefly, before falling back onto him, lips crashing together.

Jeremy had moved so he was basically straddled over Michael and was clearly trying very hard to make sure Michael could not think clearly. He pressed kisses along Michael’s jawbone, then his cheeks, then brushed over his forehead. It was nicely intimate and simple until he dropped his body further down and whined when his groin landed against Michael’s jeans.

A switch flipped in Michael’s head and he rolled over until Jeremy was pinned beneath him. Immediately, he met Jeremy’s mouth and made it his goal to kiss the thoughts out of Jeremy’s head. Judging by the moans that echoed into his mouth, he wasn’t doing a bad job.

Michael ground his half hard dick against Jeremy’s and was rewarded with a mewling noise he had never heard before, but definitely liked. So he did it again. Jeremy was almost bucking up into his touch, forgetting to kiss Michael and just focussing on not suffocating under how good it felt. Michael lapped at a love bite on the junction between his shoulder and clavicle before biting down hard on it, causing Jeremy to arc up with a garbled shout.

Michael repeated the action again until the light red mark had gone crimson, then laved his tongue over it to Jeremy’s pleasure/irritation.

“Y’know,” he huffed out. “My dad will kill me if he sees this.”

Jeremy felt Michael smirk against his neck before he thrusted against Jeremy’s thigh again. Suddenly any argument Jeremy had seemed unimportant. He needed to get that feeling again.

He thrust back up into Michael, and was rewarded when Michael groaned into his mouth. The kiss was messy, and mostly just a meeting of tongues with some panting thrown in.

“‘m close,” Michael muttered before grinding down against Jeremy again, more sloppily than before. Not that Jeremy seemed to mind, if the way he moaned back and pressed up to Michael indicated anything.

A few irregular thrusts later, and Michael came in his pants. He was gonna regret it in a couple of minutes, but for the moment, he was focussed entirely on the boy beneath him.

“Come on, Jere, I got you. You can come.”

Almost as soon as Michael had said it, Jeremy froze midair, his back bowed up toward Michael and his hips sputtered weakly through orgasm.

He rode out the aftershocks, shivering against Michael as the taller boy slowly turned them both over so they were laying next to each other on their sides.

“Holy shit,” Jeremy said shakily. “We should do that again sometime.”

Michael didn’t have the energy to agree, so he just nodded and pressed a kiss to Jeremy’s forehead.

“Maybe next time let’s not start with an elaborate weed-related con-job, though.”

Jeremy shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> want to talk to me about bmc? i'm medusalithmycelium on tumblr and i am very alone
> 
> (also i love metroid as a concept and i would die for samus aran but i know basically nothing about either)


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